Scribbles
by KasiaKat
Summary: All she could do was look at the poor soul and scribble some more.


**Finally I****'m done. This is officially the last story I will ever write that has to do with Creative Writing. I'm also turning this story for my final exam grade, so I hope I did well. ****Anyways, just because this is going to be my last story that has to do with my writing class, that doesn't mean it will be the last story I will ever write. I'm planning to publish a new story, an actual story that has chapters, but that will take me a while. ****(Like always, my creative writing teacher checked for any misspellings, if there are any more, then I'm very sorry.) So yeah, here's my last story for now...**

Scribbles

A young girl sat in between her mother and older brother, both holding the young girl's hand. The mother, a plump woman, turned towards her daughter and petted her hair with a slight smile on her face. The brother squeezed his sister's hand.

"It will be ok, Cheryl. This is for your own good," he whispered in her ear.

Cheryl looked up at her brother with no emotion. She scanned his nervous face. "Why is he nervous? It's not like he's the one that has to talk to the psychologist," she thought.

A loud crack grasped their attention. She turned towards the opening door, dreading the entry of the psychologist to come out. She felt a slow breeze pass her as her mother and brother stood up and greeted the psychologist. The psychologist had straight, long, pitch-black hair with round glasses covering most of her face. She wore the same clothes as Cheryl's mother, except on the psychologist they seemed out of place. She wore a velvet color skirt with a matching velvet sweater. Her shoes made no sound as she walked towards her family, a small nervous smile on her pale face.

"Hello, I'm Mrs. Sabrina, and I will be Cheryl's psychologist for the time being."

And she zoomed out, as her parents were explaining the situation to Mrs. Sabrina. She looked at her surroundings, a small, closed-off space with no windows. No place to breathe. Every wall coated with white paint and matching white furniture.

"It's so white in here, I wonder if it's the same in her room…" Cheryl scoffed.

She decided to check what her mother and brother were doing when she came face to face with Mrs. Sabrina.

"Well hello there, Cheryl. How are you feeling?"

Silence.

Mrs. Sabrina raised her eyebrows and stood up, turning towards her family with a shy smile, "Very shy she is with strangers, isn't she? She reminds me so much of my late husband. He was also shy around strangers."

Her mother and brother sadly smiled.

"Yes, she's shy, and I don't know why. She used to be such an energetic child," her brother stated.

Cheryl stood up as her mother urged her to come closer.

Her mother grasped her hand while her brother put his arm around her protectively.

"Well, I guess we will be going now. Cheryl, behave, we will be back in an hour."

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about. Cheryl looks like a very good girl."

"She is a good girl," her brother said, his eye twitching.

Smacking her lips, Mrs. Sabrina turned sideways opening the door to her office, "Umm, yes, say goodbye to your mother and brother, Cheryl." Mrs. Sabrina turned towards her parents, gave them a small nod and walked back into her room.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry for putting you through this," her mom said, she reached for Cheryl, wanting to get a last hug form her before leaving, but she stepped back.  
>"I should be going now… I will see you guys in an hour. Bye." Cheryl opened the door and walked into the dark room where her fate lied.<p>

The room was very static just like the wait room except its dirty red walls and brown furniture. Cheryl walked up the left side of the room, scanning it for any danger, but finding none. She walked up to one of the many bookshelves and traced her fingers on the books. She recoiled in pain when she felt something cold sweep into her fingers. Pain, suffering, and despair of many others who have sulked in the room making it feel cold and deadly.

"You can sense it too? Dark isn't it? I have been in this room probably more years than you being alive." Mrs. Sabrina said as she walked to one of the brown leather chairs in the middle of the room. She plopped down, setting two water cups on the coffee table and placing a white clipboard on her crossed knees.

Cheryl walked apprehensively towards the loveseat that sat in front of Mrs. Sabrina.

"I never thought a psychologist would be so… superstitious," Cheryl said as she sat down on the chair, feeling like it might eat her up.

"Oh, I guess you can say that. Since my husband's death things haven't been really the same. You know, sometimes I feel like I'm being hunted. This room is so dreary with misery."

"The walls, even outside in your lobby are dreary."

"Yes, some people believe that plain colors or very emotional colors can help people cope with their problems," Mrs. Sabrina said as she took a sip of water. She placed it back down before saying, "Your mother tells me that you have some… issues. Is that right?"

"What kind of issues are we talking about?"

"Well, for instance. You apparently closed yourself up once you found out your brother was getting married."

"Oh, that? It's nothing, really, I got over it."

Mrs. Sabrina looked at Cheryl and then at her clipboard and wrote as she muttered, "Continue."

"Umm, I guess you can say I have a brother's complex, yeah. And I was just jealous when I found out that my brother is getting married. You know? I just wanted to be the only girl in his life, other than our mother. I tried everything to make sure he never finds someone."

Mrs. Sabrina looked up from her clipboard with raised eyebrows, "What do you mean you tried everything?"

"Well, I was mean to the girls that got close to him. I also played some jokes on them like putting bugs in their clothes…"

"You put bugs in their clothes?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you think that's kind of immature?"

"I'm only 12, like I completely understand the concept of right and wrong."

"Most girls your age don't act so…"

"Immature?" Cheryl interrupted.

Mrs. Sabrina raised her eyebrows once again before lowering her head to her clipboard. She shook her head before scribbling some more.  
>"What are you writing?"<p>

"Hmm, oh nothing, dear," Mrs. Sabrina said looking straight at Cheryl, "Just some notes about your behavior and anything interesting you say."

"Oh," she said. Cheryl sat up straight placing her delicate hands on her knees. She looked out the window that sat in front of her. The sky was turning gray and light drip-drops could be heard as drops of water started to hit the window.

"Besides the brother complex, do you think you have any other problems?"

Cheryl looked at Mrs. Sabrina; she turned away and sighed, "Not really. My life is pretty simple. I live with my mom and brother…" She looked at the psychologist who held a confused look. "My dad, he died when I was a baby, at least that's what my mother says. So I never grew up with a father figure… Do you think that's why I have such a brother complex? Not because he's my brother, but I think of him as a dad I never had?"  
>"Possible," Mrs. Sabrina smiled to herself before scribbling some notes before asking, "is there anything else that might bug you?"<p>

"Well, did your parents ever send you to a psychologist," Cheryl asked as she waited for Mrs. Sabrina to respond with a shake of her head. No. " Well, then I guess you don't fully understand me. I feel lost, untrustworthy. Like I'm some monster."

"Well, that's good. We're making progress. Your mother and brother love you very much, they only want what's the best for you."

"And you think sending me to you shows me their love?"

Mrs. Sabrina scribbled on her paper. She looked at the young girl sitting in front of her, hoping to get more information out of her before the time was up, but she got nothing. She sat there looking at her, looking at how she sat, eyes drowsy, slow breathing and shaky hands.

Almost unable to hear from the steady raindrops that were hitting the window behind her, she nearly missed a light whisper coming form Cheryl. A silent teardrop ran down her face, as she muttered, "No one understands."

All she could do was look at the poor soul and scribble some more.


End file.
